


A Second Chance

by rockwell_psycho



Series: John Moon/Reader (fixed it!) [1]
Category: A Single Shot
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Drabble, Gen, Hopeful Ending, POV Third Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 07:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20578649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockwell_psycho/pseuds/rockwell_psycho
Summary: Sir, this is my emotional support impossible angst with hopeful ending, which I wrote at 3 am because I couldn’t sleep, so I’m not taking constructive criticism on it.





	A Second Chance

He opens his eyes and winces immediately because the white ceiling and the light of fluorescent lamps seem way too bright, almost blinding. He blinks, trying to get used to it, struggling to understand where he is and what is going on. It’s most definitely not Heaven - there are no fluorescent lamps in there. And anyways, Heaven is not the right place for someone like him… But it doesn’t seem like Hell either. He senses the smell of a hospital. Is he alive?..

He tries to remember what happened, but his mind is like in a deep haze. He only remembers that feeling when his strength is oozing away, and him digging stubbornly… Digging a grave. At some point he’s not even sure if it’s for her or for _himself_. At some point it doesn’t even matter. No more fight. What is there to fight for? He’s so tired. So tired he can hardly keep his eyes open any longer, he can hardly move any single muscle of his body. So he just closes his eyes and his mind drifts off, as if he’s falling into the black hole. It’s cold and dark and there’s no way back. The only thought is maybe it’s for the best. At least his son might grow up to become a better person. A happier person. That’s what he’s hoping for.

Now he wakes up on the hospital bed. He doesn’t really feel anything, except he’s still tired. And he doesn’t want to look at his right hand.

\- John, are you awake? John?

His vision is still a little blurry, but he turns his head to the voice, trying to focus on a silhouette of a young woman in a white lab coat.

\- Wh… Where am I?… Who are you?

His voice doesn’t seem like his own. His throat is dry.

\- You’re in the hospital, John. I’m your doctor, y/n. Do you need a drink?

She brings a glass to his lips and he drinks greedily.

\- How did I get here?

It’s still hard to speak but he needs to know.

\- You need to rest…

\- Tell me.

\- Do you remember anything?

\- Not… really… All is so… Hazy.

She sighs.

\- Please.

The doctor pauses for a moment.

\- As far as I know, a farmer and his daughter found you in the woods. There was a man… A criminal. He killed his girlfriend and was about to kill the farmer’s daughter because she saw him. You were around and you saved her, but were badly injured, lost a lot of blood. Thankfully as she reached her place, she brought her father to help you. You were nearly dead.

He closes his eyes with a sigh. Abbie. She shouldn’t have done it. Now her father is involved as well. This girl is just too good, and he didn’t deserve being saved. In fact, she could’ve been killed because of him. It was only his fault.

\- John, are you okay?

The doctor’s palm lies on his forehead. It’s cool and gentle.

\- How are you feeling?

\- I… I don’t know, - he whispers and blinks because his eyes are watering.

\- Should I call someone who could visit you? Your wife maybe?

Her voice is concerned and he knows she doesn’t mean it, but the question causes another string of pain in his chest. Not a physical one.

\- John?..

\- I ain't got a wife.

It’s the first time he says it out loud. He realized this a while ago, after months of denial. He knew that from the moment she took their son and left - deep down he knew it was over, broken, but his stubborn nature just refused to accept it, so he was still struggling to fix it, to bring it all back… Only when he saw her with another man, the realization hit him - it’s impossible. Gone forever. He walked by the lake that day, their favorite place. A place he proposed to her and she was so happy, she smiled and they kissed. They were holding hands. Now they became almost strangers and his son can hardly remember him. How did it happen? Where do the feelings go? How come something that seemed to last forever can fall apart so easily?..

The doctor looks at him in confusion, then glances at her pad. He knows it’s his record, and officially he is still married, but as the young woman meets his gaze, she chooses not to ask any more questions. Instead, she reaches his hand and holds it softly.

\- Hey… You’re gonna be okay, - she says, and he thinks she’s got incredibly kind eyes. Again, he feels like he doesn’t deserve her compassion. He should’ve been dead already. Lying in the woods covered with blood and dirt. That’s what he really deserved. If only this lady knew what really happened… Suddenly, as if she read his troubled mind, she says:

\- All you should know - whatever happened to you, it’s not your fault. And even if you blame yourself for something… You know, it’s a miracle that you survived. Really. So maybe it happened for a reason? Just consider it a second chance. And now you really should have rest, John. Okay?

She squeezes his hand gently and looks at him. He doesn’t have the energy to answer, so he just nods and closes his eyes again.

No, what happened to him is _his_ fault, obviously. There’s no one else to blame for his failures that lead him to this. But maybe she’s right and there’s a reason he’s still here. If something just didn’t let him go… Maybe he’s still got things to do. 

He’ll find out.

\- Thank you, - he whispers almost soundlessly, already half asleep, as doctor y/n is still holding his hand. He’s falling into the black hole again, but this time it doesn’t feel that dark and cold.

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue John Moon's story because I've got something in mind :)


End file.
